Van. Was. Insecure.
About her.
About her feelings for him.
Oh. My. God.
That was… something. A whole lot of something that if she weren’t so sleep deprived would totally make her grin like an idiot. Oh wait. She was grinning like an idiot. On the inside. Not on the outside, because that would be wrong and look like gloating and… she was a nice person inside. Much as it annoyed her mother that she wasn’t more like her and didn’t subscribe to the bitch-a-man-out-just-to-bitch-a-man-out ideology of that’s how to get a man to love a woman unconditionally and never stray. Maddie wasn’t an evil, vindictive bitch.
At least that’s what she told herself she wasn’t. Most days.
Lucky for Van, this was one of her good days. Kind of. Sort of. Okay, not really, but this was Van. Her Van. The man she—idiot that she probably was and would be called by her mother—would do anything to save and… oh screw it. She loved him and while being momentarily pleased as punch that she wasn’t the only one sporting relationship insecurities, she also couldn’t let him suffer—much—the nine degrees of Hell he looked like he was experiencing right now. So she took pity on him and laid a hand on his forearm.
He trembled underneath her fingertips.
“Van, look at me.”
Another grumble of dominance and he didn’t move.
She leaned forward and lifted a hand to cup his check and draw his gaze to hers.
He let her and she tried not to react to the glowing white light from his eyes. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t normal and she had every intention of asking him about it. Later. After he calmed down and was nowhere near releasing whatever secret surprise he packed inside that made the hairs stand up on her arms from the hum of energy that rolled off him. Maddie swallowed down any fear she might have felt and did what she had to do to diffuse the situation. She gave him the truth. “You were my first. My last. My only.”
He visibly shuddered under her touch.
“I turned him down because you were still in here.” With her other hand, she touched her chest, over her heart. “You’re not the only one who felt the connection. I don’t sleep well because you’re not there. Never have, never will without you. Because I missed you.”
He drew in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. “You didn’t contest the divorce.”
Didn’t contest the…? What? Huh? She frowned, confused. “Why would I have? You knew what you were doing.”
He laid a hand over hers on his cheek and drew it to his mouth, then pressed a kiss to her wrist and mumbled against her skin, “I wanted you to.”
An electrical spark shocked her skin and she shivered. “To what?”
He raised his head and when he looked back up at her, the glow was dimmer, almost gone. “Fight for me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Caliv was going to die. No doubt about it. Michael Sinclair would soon need to find another magic wielding techno-geek for his flagship Delta team because Tango was going to gut the fucker. Slowly. Methodically. Thoroughly.
Maddie had no idea how close he’d just come to losing his shit. And releasing whatever the fuck resided inside him. It’d taken an incredible amount of willpower to ease the car over to the curb. At this rate Whiskey and company would make it to the warehouse before them and he could care less.
Tango couldn’t even replay the conversation in his head without feeling an intense desire to kill, maim, and destroy every damn thing in his sight. Only reason he’d made it this far was because of her admission. That he’d been her one, only. First. Last. And only. He would be her only. Screw variety. That shit was overrated. And something she’d never get. She had her chance. And thank fuck she’d opted to keep her legs closed.
The last line repeated over and over in his head like a mantra that needed to be heard a million times to have an ounce of effect.
Because he was hanging on by a thread. A thin, pulsing thread that lead straight back to his girl and her glowing ball of feminine insecurities that’d somehow pried the lid off his own dumb ass neurotic tendencies. Really? Was he really still stuck on her having not contested the divorce?
Hell, yes. That shit had eaten away at his sanity ever since Sinclair had called it. Ever since the puppet master had burst his pie in the sky bubble and given him that I-pity-you look and informed him that Maddie would let it ride. That she wouldn’t fight for him.
Tango closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t stop the lid from cracking open on his own Pandora’s Box. “You didn’t contest the divorce.”
There was a long pause and if he weren’t such a chicken shit, he might have opened his eyes to see the emotions flitter across her face as she worked her way through the confession bomb he’d just dropped. But he couldn’t make himself do it. Not when it’d gone against every self-preservation instinct he possessed to admit it.
Finally she whispered in a shocked stupid tone, “Why would I have? You knew what you were doing.”
Had he? Maybe. Maybe not. He thought on it for a second. No, he hadn’t truly known what he’d been doing. Yeah, on paper it’d been the right thing to do, but in reality had he known it’d hurt like a bitch? And leave him feeling empty inside. Like a fucking void had opened up that could never be filled. No matter how many times he sat there and stared at her picture, rubbing his thumb over it, imagining how soft her skin was, the scent of her shampoo, the texture of her hair, the sound of her laugh, her sexy morning voice and wild hair that made him want to take her back to bed for another round of love making that’d make him not worth a damn to the team the next day. He was a lost cause and had missed her so much it was like an ache on the inside that’d never go away. He pressed a kiss to her wrist, savoring the scent of her soap that magically morphed into some mystical Maddie essence that was hers and hers alone. “I wanted you to.”
She let loose a soft gasp and her pulse sped up under his lips. “To what?”
Aw, to hell with it. His crazy train had already left the station. Another kiss on her wrist and he opened his eyes then fell hook, line, and sinker into her baby blues. “Fight for me.”
Her mouth parted. She was shocked. He wasn’t surprised. Not even when she stuttered, “I… I didn’t know you wanted me to.”
Of course she hadn’t. That was the problem. If he’d told her he had wanted her to fight for him then it would have defeated the purpose of his sacrificial lamb routine. And didn’t that just suck balls? Tango pulled her hand from his cheek and set it on his thigh, covering it with his own, then patted it once and put his hands back on the steering wheel. “Yeah, well, now you do.”
Tango checked traffic in the mirrors, then eased back onto the road.
Her hand started to lift from his thigh and needy monster that he was, he cringed hating losing her touch. ”I don’t understand you,” she announced.
“You’re not alone,” he muttered as he checked the GPS for the next turn.
“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to fight for you? I mean, it’s not like you told me or gave me any kind of hints.”
“Nope,” he said unable to stop the sarcasm in his tone. “Not a single hint. Just signed over all my money, assets, and rights to the house to you after I paid off the mortgage. All without any explanation whatsoever. Which wasn’t a hint. Not at all. Not even me giving you my car. This car which you apparently stripped for parts then rebuilt and—”
“None of that was a hint,” she cried.
“Obviously.”
“It wasn’t! I thought—” She stopped abruptly.
He made the next turn and waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he prodded, “You thought what?”
“Nothing.”
Fat chance of that. Not from her tone or after having learned she’d discussed their relationship with her mother. “You thought I’d given you everything because I was guilty of some infidelity. You thought I’d had enough of your insecure ways and means that I’d fucki
ng thrown in the towel, had a fling then handed every goddamn thing I own over to you and just bailed.”
How in the name of all that was holy did they get from him melting down in a jealous rage to everything being her fault? Oh she heard what he was saying. Heard every single syllable of what he was spewing and felt every bit of the crazy insecure maleness that was… in a nutshell? All about him. In a snit. Ranting. Pissing, moaning, and groaning because he’d walked out on her. And she hadn’t contested it. Seriously? Did he hear what he was saying?
Apparently not because he kept going.
“Hate to break it to you, babe, but guilty men don’t usually pay off the mortgage before ditching the wife for a newer model. They just walk. Don’t believe me, ask your mother.”
Insufferable ass. Maddie narrowed her eyes at him. “How long, Van?”
“How long what?”
She arched a brow. “How long has it been since you had a full night sleep?”
He glanced at her, then back at the road. And no, she didn’t miss the flexing of his hands on the steering wheel. She’d hit her mark and called him on his bullshit. “This isn’t about me.”
Seriously? He did not just say that. Her jaw dropped and she pulled back.
“This is about you not trusting me,” he ground out.
“Trust you,” she sputtered, stupefied. “I trusted you to do the right thing!”
He gave a derisive snort, then muttered, “And look where that got us.”
“What the hell?” Maddie was so lost. “You are by far the most confusing man I have ever met.”
“No shit.”
Still flabbergasted at his confusing behavior, Maddie shook her head and tried for logic. Any kind of logic that would derail whatever hurtful, insecure statements either one of them apparently had festering within. She drew in a deep, shaky, fortifying breath and tried for calm. “I didn’t contest the divorce, because there was nothing to contest. You disappeared. Wouldn’t answer your phone. Left me no note. Nothing. One day there. The next, gone.”
She paused a second and prayed he wouldn’t speak.
He didn’t. Which was great because she’d probably hit him if he did.
Another deep breath and she went on. “I looked for you, Van. I followed every damn protocol we’d ever set up for communication and not a damn one of them panned out. So yes, when you just disappeared, I lost it. For the first month you were gone, I honestly thought you were dead and it…. Tore. Me. Up.”
A muscle ticked under his eye. But he stayed silent.
“Then the papers arrived. And I was pissed. Yes, I talked to my mother. Yes, I talked to my father. Yes, I talked to my brothers. And you want to know what all of them said?” She was full tilt angry and barely paused for a breath or to let him answer the question. “That this was for the best.”
He eased the car into a parking space in front of the building.
Calm and rational was out the window. So far out that she completely ignored him putting the car in park. “But thanks to you enlightening me to the crazy mixed up machinations that you setup with my family, I now get it that each of them had their own understanding of what the hell was going on. Whereas I. Did. Not!”
The internal rabbit hole was in sight and no amount of intelligence could stop her now. She was on a roll and more than ready to offload the shit she’d been carrying too long.
“I was the one left in the dark. I was the one left with the home, the car, the friends, the pitying looks, the ‘I’m sorry’s it didn’t work out but maybe next time you’ll be woman enough to keep a man interested enough to stay! So no, Van, this is not about me not contesting the divorce. This is about you regretting your own actions. This is about you recognizing that you fucked up. That you almost lost me to a shallow friends with benefits offer.”
He growled and that scary testosterone vibe was back in a flash practically sucking the air out of the car.
Push. Poke. Prod. Dump an entire bottle of lighter fluid on an enraged ember, then be stupid enough to blow on it. A lot. Apparently that was her thing nowadays, because she added, “An offer that I probably should have taken him up on.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Don’t do it. Don’t explode. Don’t lose it. Don’t… fuck it.
Tango reacted in a flash and snagged a hand behind Maddie’s neck, then laid a claiming kiss on her surprised lips. He poured every ounce of his frustration, regret, and anger into it. Tongues dueled. Hearts raced. Breaths came in shallow, harsh gasps as she met his hunger head on and demanded more.
Her nails gripped his shirt, digging through the cotton marking his chest and fueling the desperate urge to fuck some sense into her smart ass. She moaned and his need to possess her rippled down his spine then shot straight to his cock. The beast within him cheered him on. Urging him to mark her. Sink his teeth into that sweet spot at the base of her neck and mark her his. Only his.
Want dissolved into driving need and his other hand unlatched his seat belt then hers and dragged her across the bench seat to him. He didn’t give a flying fuck that it was the middle of the night in a downtown district with not a fucking soul in sight. He didn’t give a damn that cops could show up any second and demand to know why he was slipping his hand down the back of her pants to cup her ass.
She straddled his thigh and ground herself against him, scorching him through his jeans. Her hot body moving against his until his balls ached with the need to come inside her and plant his seed deep within her. His hand slid underneath her panties, smoothed a trail down the cleft of her ass, across the sensitive area he’d yet to claim. She pushed back against his hand and moaned as he stroked her from behind until the tip of his finger found the edge of her hot seeping wet pussy. It was his. All his. No other man would touch what belonged to him.
Driven by that thought he ripped his mouth from hers and trailed hot open mouth kisses along her jaw to her neck, then gently bit her the lobe of her ear and shoved at her pants, pushing them down stretching the material across her thighs and making her legs clutch at his. “This pussy is mine.”
She gave him another moan as he pushed a finger inside her, circled and massaged her slick trembling walls then dragged it out and back to rim the one place she denied him entrance.
“Mine,” he told her as her ass raised against his hand, shoving her pants down further exposing her bare ass to the flickering streetlight.
She shuddered with a hissed yessss as he dragged his finger back and forth across sensitive skin letting his energy seep out and merge with hers until his balls were ready to explode and she was a writhing panting mess letting him finger fuck her.
“No one else,” he warned her. “This pussy comes only for me.”
“Only… you.” Her forehead dropped to his shoulder and her teeth clamped down on him. “Don’t stop. Fuck me. Yessss.”
That did it. Need overtook restraint and he shifted, moving her off him long enough to strip her pants off. She groaned his name in complaint long enough to catch on then her hands were working his fly open and pulling his cock out. Then she was in his lap, knees straddling his hips and sheathing him deep inside her.
Hands on his shoulders and she moaned, arching her back riding him as he guiding her then tugged her back down, burying himself to the hilt. “Fuck yes. Take it, baby. Make me come so deep inside you.”
Her breathing hitched and skittered out in pants and breathless chants urging him on as she rode him, drawing out her pleasure, making her pussy tighten and pulse his cock. It felt like as eternity. Her hot scorching walls caressing him. Stroking him. Sucking him deep within. Connecting him to that place he needed with her. Carrying him with her to the center of the universe where he wasn’t alone. His eyes locked onto the pulse at the base of her neck and a tingle started along his jaw, calling forth fangs that’d stayed dormant too long. Fuck, he needed to claim her. Needed to taste her blood. Claim it. Lock it. Taste her soul and drink it in until it merged with his and made him whole.
> “Yes. Do it. Take me. Claim me.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized she was channeling what was chanting in his mind. But still he held back. Knowing where this would lead. Staring at the spot on her neck, licking his lips in anticipation, knowing what needed to be done to calm his crazy. Knowing he’d denied himself too long the connection that they both deserved. Needed. Knowing it would change everything.
“Do it,” she cried in breathy tone. “Make me yours. Claim. Me.”
“Fuck,” he muttered as his restraint snapped and he pulled her down hard on his cock and fangs out struck. Her blood hit his tongue and she shrieked with pleasure as her pussy walls fluttered once, twice, then locked onto his cock rippling against him and sucking his come deep inside to the gates of her womb.
Indescribable pleasure exploded behind his eyes and encased his body making him jerk and spasm against her, fucking her hard, making her body milk the seed from him in endless jets until lights and images flashed before his eyes, making his heart stop then hammer again as her he tasted her soul and drank it in, feeling it seep into his body merging with his. Locking them together in something they’d ever be able to break. An ultimate bond that was so unnatural it was natural and right and his soul settled. Snapping into place and forging the ultimate commitment. One no man could tear asunder. No demon could cut loose. No divorce could end.
Maddie was now his mate. Claimed. Linked. Bound to his fucked up soul and beast for all eternity. Tango withdrew his fangs, swiped his tongue across her mark, and swallowed, then dropped his head back against the seat as the weight of what he’d just done hit him. No longer would he be able to leave her to protect her. No longer would he be able to stay away from her for extended periods of time. No longer would he be able to keep her safe from the fucked up world that was his life. She would be a target for the seers who hunted freaks like him. Anger directly solely at himself roiled in his gut and he closed his eyes as he faced the magnitude of his own stupidity. Shit. Fire. “Fuck me.”
Devil's Tango (Running with the Devil Book 1) Page 7
